The Life and Times of Trowa Barton
by Shinjin Chronicler
Summary: um...an autobiography of Trowa's life. AU, doesn't at all resemble GW or SM. Not every character from each series is included. Please review, anything is welcome. Flamers are welcome. Criticism is welcome, and SilverCaladan, etc. is more than welcome


An Autobiography: The Life and Times of Trowa Barton  
  
Author: Shinjin Chronicler  
  
I've never owned Trowa, or any of the characters in Gundam Wing or Sailor Moon. However, this story is AU. I own everything else besides those characters. The only things I've taken from both series are the characters, and the personalities.  
  
Although the characters in the series have deep personalities of their own, in this fic many will be different. Some personalities will stay the same, but for many a number of events and people in their lives will CHANGE them. They may form to the personality they normally have in the series, or slowly change to someone else.  
  
You can email me at shinjinstudios@hotmail.com, or kenk@cox.net. Anything is welcome. Any reviews are welcome. I don't care if its well thought out criticism, a flame with lots of criticism, a normal flame, or "more!1!1!oneoen I wll fsck yoo up if yo dun continuh"  
  
By the way, special thanks to SilverCaladan. On my other fic here (my first one) she told me what to improve and everything. I haven't been able to revise that yet (school and.this) but I promise that I will get around to it.  
  
-+-+-+-+-  
  
My name is Trowa Barton. Of course you've heard of me. My bestselling unauthorized biography has already been published, including my very own Trowa Barton coloring book, and my limited edition master puzzle kit is sold out everywhere. No matter how many people, including personal friends and family, claim that the unauthorized biography is true, I'm here to give you the real story of my life. Prepare yourself, not only for the pages that follow, but to buy the new Trowa Barton cell phone plates. I'm frickin' smiling on that thing.  
  
I was born on December 25. I believe my mom wasn't very happy, since she was missing out on seeing family, friends, giving presents, and enjoying herself on that Christmas morning. Anyone would rather do that than give birth to a bleeding lump that could pee, scream, and cry like a banshee. In my impersonation of a peeing banshee, I peed SO violently, and SO hard, that the nurse dropped me onto a bunch of needles. But these were no ordinary needles. These were filled with dangerous chemicals and toxic waste, that could forever distort my genetics and power forever. Even from that day, the day I was born, the day I knew exactly how to scream and pee like a banshee-I knew that my powers were different from any other banshee.  
  
Just kidding. The needles were filled with sedatives, overloaded my body into submission, and I fell asleep. Normally, heavy doses of sedatives would kill a baby, but I wasn't a baby. I was a screaming, peeing, crying banshee with baby fat. Even so, I believed that incident gave me the bad luck I would have for the rest of my life.  
  
-+-+-+-+- The next incident occurred when I was five. I was going to kindergarten. My parents, armed with their picture books and lies, had led me into thinking that I was going to have a helluva fun time. I had no idea what a school really was. I thought it was a magical fairyland, where people like me ran around with their fancy Rescue Heroes fireman action sets. There were talking lions, goldfish with juicy steaks, and bumblebees who just wanted to make love with you. I thought there were magic tigers with peace necklaces, Volkswagen vans, tie-dye shirts and a bunch of drugs hidden in their long hair. I thought they filled all the desks with marshmallows just for me. I didn't think that they would try to teach me anything.  
  
That day, I held my new Blues Clues backpack filled with new Blues Clues notebooks and new Blues Clues pocket knife, my shiny pencil that said "Awesome Pawsome" on it, and my customized Power Ranger pencil sharpening kit. And I ran forth, screaming and running towards a school that was five miles away. I didn't know there was a bus. My parents couldn't help me, since they were exhausted and dead asleep after clubbing the past night. I didn't even know where the bus stop was.  
  
And then.the bus ran me over.  
  
No matter how shiny your pencil is, a bus driver just can't see a five year old in the street. Especially when the bus is going at 30 mph.  
  
A five year old can not easily take being hit by a bus. Even though the bus was going at a slow speed, and the fact that it was attempting to stop, the impact of the blow sent me flying back, knocked unconscious by the bus and thrown onto harsh asphalt. My right leg took the impact, and was ground and torn apart while I was sliding. Crimson liquid continually spurted out of the shredded area, leaving my leg a massive stump; parts of my body also strewn across the street. Later somebody told me my fibula was ripped out of the sockets, still covered in tendons and muscle tissue; my tibia had not been taken out but torn in half. My foot and everything else on the lower half of my right leg had been found as well.  
  
Later I awoke to a white ceiling, a bunch of machines, and strange doctors who I thought were mad scientists that wanted me as a guinea pig. That would have to wait until I was eight. I had been given a number of antiseptics, and was feeling drowsy and disoriented because of it. However, I think they told me I got very, very lucky for a five year old. They said they didn't understand how I survived, but I couldn't and still can't understand how having half a leg is lucky.  
  
I was given a bionic leg to compensate. Although the leg actually performed quite well, since it's more efficient than normal legs, metal legs simply don't attract chicks. Maybe artificial legs are a male thing. However, the incident left me devastated; I decided to not talk unless absolutely necessary after that. At least for a while. Talking simply left me thinking and wishing for a life with a real leg. A life where I wasn't a freak.  
  
Not talking was very hard for me. However, I got very proficient in carrying a slate and an Expo marker. If I wasn't going to talk, I had to make sure that people understood my feelings, and why McDonalds is a cover- up for an abortion clinic.  
  
-+-+-+-+-  
  
I walked away from children my age, and stayed inside most of the time. Not only did I have an artificial leg, I was intellectually superior to everyone I knew. As I found out later in my life, I was physically superior as well. Even from an early age, I was taller than everyone else, and many were intimidated by me.  
  
Thus, I withdrew to my computer. I created a profile for myself there, where nobody knew what I looked like or how strange I was. There I was simply Jack, a male who lived in California. Nobody asked for more.  
  
And thus, I began to rebuild my life. You'll never believe how different it became.  
  
-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-  
  
THERE! First chapter! I'm so happy!  
  
As you can see, Trowa quickly changed to his silent, door-like personality. I'll be introducing a number of characters, maybe one you'll recognize next chapter. Not everyone will be in this fic, and never planned to.  
  
Romance WILL come. xD Not in the way you'll expect. Not at all. It's going to be so FUN for me to write!  
  
Btw, Usagi is definitely not going to appear in this fic. Her personality on ff.net is simply shallow and full of love, and even in the actual series she's kind of stereotypical and whatever. To accomplish anything I'd need to change her personality. And if I did that, that's simply not Usagi. I could replace the name with anything and it would still work.  
  
NOTE: This is just the INTRODUCTION. Expect a plot and everything in the next chapter.  
  
I'm going to try to remember to update this! Through lots of homework, too! Wish me luck! 


End file.
